


Captain Stonesy

by Bellelaide



Series: ENT [5]
Category: Football RPF, Men's Football RPF
Genre: Captain John - Freeform, M/M, RIP me, i had to do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: John captained City for six minutes. The world, and Jordan Pickford, lost their minds





	Captain Stonesy

**Author's Note:**

> I had to do this. It wrote itself, honestly

John Stones never thought he’d be able to say “I captained Manchester City in a 6-0 win,” but after last night’s Champions League game, he could. 

Sure, it’d only been six minutes - but still it felt wonderful nonetheless, like an achievement, like he’d done something remarkable. Wearing the armband had made John feel electric. He felt the weight of the role and the honour of it pressing down on his bicep. He felt responsible and in charge, the back of his head prickling with it, with the thought that in that moment he was the leader, the boss, the captain. 

When the whistle blew and the game was over he was sad that the moment was over, but only marginally so - he planned to milk it all night, and he knew, with the most delicious heat in his stomach, that Jordan was going to go crazy over this. 

John and the team emptied out into the bowels of the stadium, high off their enormous win. Someone started playing Who Gon Stop Me by Kanye and Jay Z and it was fitting and appropriate, and they all huddled and jumped around for the duration of the song, feeling that really, who was going to ever stop them? 

Eventually they had to stop dancing and function properly, but everyone was still buzzing and kept congratulating John, Mendy making him stop for an Instagram photo that he didn’t look particularly handsome in but was funny anyway. He felt like a sparkler, fizzing and flickering. He didn’t want to take the band off, not even to shower. He was dawdling around in front of the mirrors looking at himself when Kyle came over and pulled him into a hug, just as sweaty and happy as John. 

“Proud of you,” he said into John’s neck. “Bloody brilliant.” 

“Thanks, bud,” John said, holding him tight. “Feels amazing, man.” 

“You ever going to take it off?” Kyle laughed, stepping back. “Have it sewn into your skin?” 

“Piss off,” John sniggered, finally walking in the direction of the showers. “Course I’ll take it off. I’m bringing it home though, don’t care what they say.” 

“Fair,” Kyle said, following John. “Bet your man’s going to love it.” 

John looked at Kyle and grinned. “He’s probably losing his mind.” 

They stripped off and stepped into the spray, John placing the band down carefully on top of his shoes first. 

“You mean he hasn’t already texted you twenty times telling you to skip the shower and get home?” 

John rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t do that,” he insisted, and Kyle snorted. 

“Don’t fucking lie. I know you like each other sweaty and minging. Not my preference, personally, but - “ 

“Piss off, twat,” John laughed, shoving at him. “Don’t be jealous just because I have an amazing sex life and you’re lucky if you can get a handy after the kids are in bed.” 

“As if you think anyone would be jealous that you’re shagging Jordan Pickford,” Kyle teased, lathering up his hair. “I’d pay him NOT to have sex with me.” 

John was thinking of his retort when Sterling stuck his head into the showers, calling for John. 

“Stonesy? Come and collect your man, he’s out here in the corridor pacing with a raging hard on. He’s ready to shag the next lanky fucker who walks out the - “ He was cut short by John throwing a shampoo bottle at his head, Kyle cackling happily. 

“As if, mate. As if! Shall I clear out, leave you to it?” Kyle said, waggling his eyebrows. 

John shook his head and tried to remain aloof but he couldn’t stop the smile on his face, the way his heart was fluttering. “All of you need to stop. He’s just picking me up.” 

John turned off the water and grabbed his towel, vigorously drying himself. He pulled on his change of clothes and packed the armband carefully in his bag, looking down at it the way a mother looks down on a newborn baby. He put his shoes on and nodded over at Kyle. 

“Right, mate. See you later, yeah?” 

“Have a nice night, shagger!” Kyle called back. John waved a hand and left. 

Sure enough, when he pushed open the changing room door, there was Jordan. He didn’t have a raging hard on but he had that look on his face, John’s favourite look. He was leaning back against the wall with his arms folded, dressed in grey slim fit trousers and a white shirt, his car keys dangling from his left hand. He was smiling slightly, one eyebrow cocked. John’s stomach was doing somersaults, and he looked Jordan up and down with one sweeping glance, coming to a stop a few feet in front of him. 

“Why you dressed so fancy?” He asked, wondering how angry Jordan would be if John burst all the buttons on the shirt ripping it off. 

Jordan stepped forward off the wall, shrugging nonchalantly. “Was at a dinner with some of the club donors. Didn’t go home to get changed, came right here.” Jordan looked John dead in the eyes. “Left the dinner when I saw the eh... the news... on Twitter.” 

“News?” 

“Yeah, the news, captain.” 

“Will you two get a room?” Kyle said suddenly, coming out of the changing rooms. He had his hand over his eyes dramatically, acting scandalised. “This is worse than in Russia.” 

John and Jordan both looked at Kyle exasperatedly, John wanting nothing more than to shove duct tape over his big mouth. 

“Y’alright, Kyle?” Jordan said politely, holding out a hand for Kyle. They clapped hands, John staring at Kyle and mentally screaming FUCK OFF. 

“Not bad, Jordan, how’s things? How you keeping?” 

“Not bad, not bad. How was the game?” 

“Brilliant mate, proper buzz, especially for the captain here - “ 

“ALRIGHT, Kyle, see you later, mate!” John interrupted, reaching for Jordan’s hand. “We’ll have to have you round for dinner sometime, yeah?” 

Kyle laughing knowingly. “Sorry, cap. I’m going, I’m going,” he said, retreating down the corridor. “Have a good night! Don’t hurt each other!” 

“Better hurry Kyle, don’t miss your hand job!” John called, and Kyle flipped him off as he turned, finally leaving the grounds. John turned to Jordan breathlessly, looking at him with bambi eyes. “Home, then?” 

Jordan shook his head and bit his lip, eyes on John’s mouth. “Nah. Nah... I can’t wait. C’mon,” he said, pulling John by the hand up the corridor in the opposite direction of the exit. 

John let himself be pulled, always full of trust. “Where we going?” He asked, toes tingling. “And why do your trousers have to be so tight? That’s unfair.” 

Jordan said nothing, instead coming to another corridor and looking up and down it both ways. He considered the signs for a second and then turned left, heading for the stairwell. He pulled John up the steps, feet unable to take the stairs quick enough. He made them climb four flights before he was satisfied, yanking John out the door and into the stadium stands. 

John looked out at the deserted stadium and frowned, confused. “What - “ he began, looking round at Jordan and instantly reading the expression on his face. “No. Not here - fuck sake, Jord, anyone could - “ 

“No one will see if we’re up here. I’ve got to, I’ve fuckin got to. I’d have you on the pitch but that’s pushing it. It’s dark up here,” he breathed, dusting the back of his fingers across John’s nipples. 

John groaned and looked around worriedly, torn between thinking this was utterly ridiculous and utterly sexy. He closed his eyes and sighed, knowing he was powerless to say no. “If we get caught then you’re up shit creek,” he said, and Jordan wasted no time in pulling him into the rows of seats, choosing a nice shadowed section and shoving John down onto the blue plastic. 

John sat and pushed his hips forward in the chair, his legs open wide enough for Jordan to stand between them. Jordan ran his hands up and down John’s thighs and leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth, slow and soft. He pulled back after a moment and leaned against the chair behind him, folding his arms again. “Where is it?” He asked. 

John picked up his bag and unzipped it, pulling the band out. Jordan’s eyes darkened at the sight of it, and he licked his lips. He reached for it and held it for John to put his hand in, pulling it up his arm and letting it settle against John’s bicep. John let his hand drop into his lap, palm upturned. He looked down at the band lovingly and then up at Jordan, feeling so unbelievably proud of himself. 

Jordan couldn’t stop touching it, mesmerised. John would have purred if he could, heat flooding his face. 

“You, are, so, amazing,” Jordan said carefully, emphasising each word. “I’m so proud of you. You’re making us so hard and a’v not even been touched yet,” he breathed, and John’s eyes dropped to Jordan’s trousers where his dick was indeed pressing against the ridiculously tight fabric. 

John’s mouth flooded with saliva and he reached forward automatically, grabbing at the black belt Jordan had on. Jordan grabbed his hands and moved them away, shaking his head no. 

“Later, later,” he said, coming forward to rest on his knees on the hard concrete. “Want to suck you off.” 

“You hate giving head,” John said meekly. “You don’t have to.” 

“I just say that to get out of doing it,” Jordan answered, palming John through his joggers. “M’lazy. But you extra deserve it tonight.” 

John lifted his hips and let Jordan take his trousers down slightly, enough to be pulled back on in a rush and enough to free his dick. He was already half hard and Jordan took it in his hand gently, like he was holding something precious and delicate. He spat on it suddenly and that made John all the way hard, the dirtiness of having Jordan’s saliva all over his cock too hot. John put his arms back and rested them on the neighbouring seat backs at the elbow, hands dangling. 

“You’ll be the captain of England one day,” Jordan said softly, pride dripping from his mouth. 

John looked at him and felt a lump in his throat, suddenly overwhelmed. He leant forward and they kissed for a moment, Jordan still working his hand, even with John’s stomach in the way. Jordan pulled back from the kiss and pushed John down after a beat, finally leaning forward and putting his mouth over John’s cock. 

It was warm and weighty in his mouth, skin so soft but hard with John’s arousal. Jordan had refined his blow job skills over time and whilst he still wasn’t a professional he wasn’t bad, either. John was alight with pleasure, any fear of the audacity of their actions dissolved in the sensation of Jordan’s mouth. He brought the hand with the armband down and slid it into Jordan’s hair, scratching his short nails back and forward across his head encouragingly. 

“Suck my fucking dick, Pickford,” he said, only half joking. “Always knew you were the type to go around blowing the captain after a game.” 

Jordan looked up at John and there was mirth in his eyes, which made John smile. Jordan flicked his tongue over the head and John moaned, head falling back, legs trying to press wider against the restraint of his waistband. Jordan popped off to say “slut,” and his voice was all strained and rough and John felt close. All his teenage fantasies - captain of the team, blowjobs in the bleachers - were coming true right before his eyes, and he was struck not for the first time by his sheer luck. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and Jordan sucked him harder. “I totally love you.” 

Jordan had to bring his hand down to his own dick at that, and the sight of it - lips and hand and red cheeks - was enough, enough to push John over the edge and start spurting uncontrollably down Jordan’s throat. Jordan took it like a champ, and John’s moans were echoing from the rafters. 

“Fuck, fuck - fucking hell, Jord, Jesus - I want to fucking marry you,” he gasped, hips pressing up towards Jordan’s face. 

Jordan swallowed and pulled off, grimacing as he wiped a hand across his mouth. John was breathing heavily and tucking himself back into his trousers, body feeling like jelly. Eventually he opened his eyes and smiled up at Jordan, feeling that he could take a nap right then and there. Jordan was staring at him, standing still, boner still pressing against his trousers. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

“Aw c’mon, come doesn’t taste THAT bad - “ 

“You want to marry me?” Jordan said faintly. John blinked at him. 

“Er - depends,” he said, standing up slowly. They were very close when both stood there, the space as small as it was. 

“Depends on what?” Jordan asked. 

“Depends whether that freaks you out or not. If it does then no, I say stupid shit when I’m coming, you know that. If it doesn’t freak you out... then yeah, I would. Marry you. One day,” he added quickly, searching Jordan’s face for a clue. 

Jordan raised his eyebrows and huffed out a breath, bringing his hand up to John’s armband and resting it there. “Yeah, I’d marry you. Of course I would. But - let’s stop talking about it, right? Not getting engaged in the fucking Etihad.” 

John tutted incredulously. “Fine, but if you ever try to propose to me in the Stadium of fucking Light I will never speak to you again.” 

Jordan grinned. “I’m not proposing to you. You can propose to me,” he joked, patting the band twice and then moving off back towards the stairs. “The one who’s punching is the one who proposes!” He called over his shoulder, and John couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping his throat. 

“Bugger off,” he muttered, watching as Jordan hopped down the steps with his car keys jangling. John started pulling off the band, eyes on Jordan’s arse.

All in all, it’d been one of the best nights of his life, he mused. And it was only getting started.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr! Belle-laid.tumblr.com


End file.
